


Memories

by aceofsparrows



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Anne is sick, F/M, Gil comes to keep her company, Gil's childhood is explored, Marilla is sentimental, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: It seemed like only yesterday, that Christmas when he had only just returned to Avonlea and he and Bash had been invited over for the Christmas dinner. Anne’s hair, which now was longer than her shoulders and thicker than before, had been short and ragged, a blue ribbon tied around her head for the special occasion.But there were many memories in this kitchen from before that Christmas, memories from so early in his childhood that he was surprised they were still so vivid...* * *Gilbert comes to visit Anne while she's sick in bed, and reflects upon his childhood and memories of Green Gables.(set between s2 & s3)
Relationships: (past), Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, John Blythe/Marilla Cuthbert
Comments: 9
Kudos: 122





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I originally began this just after season 2 came out, never finished it, and then promptly forgot about it. However, I found it the other day while I was clearing out my google drive and decided it actually worked quite well within the canon of season 3, so I decided to edit, finish, & post it. 
> 
> Thank you to @withlovegilbert for her HILARIOUS commentary while she proof-read it, and for encouraging me to continue to develop Gilbert & Marilla’s relationship. There’s more coming soon about Gil’s childhood, that I can assure you :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

It had been days since he had seen Anne. Diana had said the redhead had the flu, that she would be back at school in a few days once her fever broke, but Gilbert knew that Anne’s immune system had never been kind to her, and after she had missed a whole week of school he decided to take her lessons over to Green Gables. After all, they had resolved to beat each other fair and square, and he felt it would be wrong to not return the courtesy that she had paid him many days when his father was sick and he had missed school. 

Snow blanketed the Cuthberts’ land, and Green Gables itself huddled weathered and muffled by the several inches that had fallen in the night. It was Saturday, and even the well-worn sleigh tracks were covered, making Gilbert’s footprints stand out in the stark whiteness. He imagined what Anne would say about such weather, about how it was a beauteous gift from heaven, and how romantical the sparkling snow and glittering icicles made the usually drab countryside look. While she had been gone, he had missed her whimsical comments when they walked to school together; they had both been coming in for early study with Ms. Stacey, and since they went the same way for at least half of the walk, they had taken up walking side by side through the woods and fields to the school. 

Mary had insisted upon him bringing something to the Cuthberts, so he had with him a basket of still-warm sour-cherry scones, a recipe he hadn’t made since his father had passed away almost three years ago. It was a recipe, he recalled now as he approached the open gate to the house’s yard, that he had found as a small child in the kitchen, tucked behind some old magazines of his father’s adolescence. It was written in a hand he did not recognise at the time, as it was too neat to be his father’s and did not quite look like the samples of his mother’s on the other recipes. Then, in faded ink in the upper corner, he made out a name he did recognise: Marilla Cuthbert. 

It had always been his favorite recipe. 

He came to the threshold of the kitchen door, slipping off his glove to give a quick, sharp wrap on the wood. After a moment there were footsteps, and Marilla herself opened the door, ushering him inside while muttering about the cold and the wet. 

“Good afternoon, Gilbert. I suppose you’re here to see our Anne?” 

Gilbert smiled. “Well, yes, Miss Cuthbert, although I always enjoy the company of you and Matthew just as much.” 

Marilla couldn’t help but smile at the charming boy as he unwound his scarf and settled his winter things on the hook beside the door. 

“Well, you’ve come at the opportune time, Mr. Blythe, as Anne’s fever broke this morning and she’s in quite a social mood,” she started to wave him into the dining room towards the stairs, but then stopped, seeming to think better of it. “Why don’t I go tell her that you’re here, and then I’ll show you to her room. That child is as vain as they come about her appearance in the most odd of situations.” 

Gilbert nodded. “Anne is a perplexing individual, that is for sure.” 

Marilla disappeared up the staircase and Gilbert was left alone in the kitchen with his basket of scones. The heat of the crackling fireplace warmed his stockinged feet on the rough, cool floorboards, and he took in the well-loved kitchen. It seemed like only yesterday, that Christmas when he had only just returned to Avonlea and he and Bash had been invited over for the Christmas dinner. Anne’s hair, which now was longer than her shoulders and thicker than before, had been short and ragged, a blue ribbon tied around her head for the special occasion. 

But there were many memories in this kitchen from before that Christmas, memories from so early in his childhood that he was surprised they were still so vivid. His father had brought him here, those afternoons when the farm had needed so much work that he couldn’t hang around and “help”. He must have been no older than three or four, during that odd time when they no longer needed a wet nurse but he hadn’t started school yet. Marilla had taught him the things his father couldn’t, and even things Gilbert wasn’t sure he’d learned even if his mother had lived. 

He remembered most distinctly the revelation that occurred the first afternoon he spent at another boy’s house. It was the Andrews’— Billy had wanted to show him the wooden toy shotgun that his father had given him for his birthday— and Gilbert had watched Mrs. Andrews in fascination. She did very few of the things that Marilla did, mostly because she had servants to do the chores, but she also seemed scandalized when Gilbert told her proudly how he had embroidered his initials on his handkerchief and that he knew how to bake a variety of pastries. She shook her head in disgust, muttering about the way his father was bringing him up, saying that it was a shame John hadn’t made an effort to remarry, to give Gilbert a proper childhood instead of pawning him off to the local spinster for improper, feminine education. Jane and Prissy, only a few years younger and older on either end of him, had sat in the corner with their needlepoint, eyes downcast, shaking their heads along with their mother. What a shame, what a shame. It was the first time he realised the differences between girls and boys were more than just skirts and trousers and mothers and fathers. 

So as he spent more time with his peers through school, Gilbert learned to fit in. He shot pheasants with the boys and teased the girls, untying their hair ribbons and dipping their long curls into inkwells and chasing them around the schoolyard. He stopped seeing the Cuthberts besides church and the odd encounter in town. But at home, he still helped his father in the kitchen, using the apples from the family orchard to bake all manner of pastries in the fall and canning the auxiliary fruit just as Marilla had so carefully taught him all those years ago. He mended and darned their clothing and kept the house clean and tidy even after his father became ill when he was twelve. 

Marilla reappeared in the kitchen, rousing Gilbert from his thoughts. “Alright, I’ve sufficiently assured her that she is in a proper state to receive visitors. You may follow me upstairs, Gilbert.” She turned on her heel, leading the way, and Gilbert padded up the stairs after her, the basket of scones cooling in his arms. He hoped Anne wouldn’t be too embarrassed he had brought them for her. 

Her room was at the end of the hall, and Marilla knocked once before letting herself in. Gilbert came after her and stopped near the threshold, feeling suddenly very odd for arriving in such a private space. Bright winter sunlight filtered in through the ivory curtain, and Anne was tucked tightly upright under a mound of blankets, as she had no fireplace in the room to keep the chill from creeping in. Her eyes lit up when she saw him standing there, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, Gilbert, how good of you to come! I have been feeling absolutely brain dead all day with nothing to do. Marilla wouldn’t let me go outside or help with the chores… it’s been positively awful. I’m glad you're here now to entertain me or at least provide an interesting conversation.” She glanced at Marilla, colouring slightly. “Sorry, Marilla, you are lovely, but one does tire of talking about the same things for days on end. At least Gilbert can tell me about all the things that have happened at school while I’ve been gone.”

Marilla chuckled, shaking her head. 

“It’s quite alright Anne, I understand perfectly. I’ll bring tea up in a moment,” she gave a stern eye to Anne, but couldn’t seem to keep a smile from creeping onto her face. “Don’t talk his ear off, Anne. You’re not to full health yet, and Gilbert’s here out of the goodness of his heart.”

As Marilla made her way back downstairs for the tea things, Gilbert and Anne sat in silence until Gilbert realised he still was standing oddly on the threshold, holding his quickly-cooling scones. Anne seemed to realize this as well, and sat up taller, pointing to the bundle. 

“What’s in the basket?” 

“Sour-cherry scones.” 

“For me?” 

Gilbert felt his cheeks color just slightly and looked down at his feet in their thick winter socks. What was it about Anne that made every coherent thought fly out of his head? He always felt he had to be so smart and quick when he was around her, and yet everything witty or clever seemed to escape him in the moment, leaving his head alarmingly empty. 

“Yes, for you,” he replied, hastily adding “And Matthew and Marilla, of course. Mary made me bake enough that you could probably send Jerry home with several as well.” He stopped himself before he rambled too far- but it was too late. Anne had latched onto a small slip of his tongue and there was no stopping her now. 

“Mary made you bake them? You know how to make scones, Gilbert?” Her smile threatened to take over her whole freckled face, and for a moment he wanted to slap himself for getting himself into this mess. He sighed heavily. 

“Yes, Anne, I know how to make scones. In fact, I’ve been baking these particular scones since I was five years old. I stopped when my father died, but I decided that it was high time I started again. Can’t let the farm’s stellar orchard go to waste, I suppose.” 

Anne nodded sagely, momentarily appeased, and Gilbert sigh internally. Why did talking to the plucky redhead always feel like navigating a minefield? 

“Tell me all that’s happened at school this week, Gilbert,” Anne said, patting the end of her bed. He cautiously sat at the foot of the bed, offering Anne a scone from the basket, which she happily accepted, and he set the cumbersome basket on the floor, taking a scone himself. 

“Well, lessons were mostly mundane. We reviewed North American geography and the United States. Ms. Stacey took us out into the yard to discuss plants in winter. Oh, and Billy got his tongue stuck to that iron pole near the outhouse; Charlie Sloane dared him to lick it for God knows what reason. Ms. Stacey had to pour hot water from the kettle on the stove on it to get it off.” Anne laughed at that, and Gilbert smiled, spurred on by her rapt attention. 

“Diana and Ruby defended your honour at lunch on Thursday. I was studying some books on the skeleton Ms. Stacey had given me and I overheard Josie Pye saying how her mother suspected you were home sick so long because you had some sort of affliction that only an orphan could come by and how worried she was that you would spread it to all the other children, and Diana stood right up and told Josie how preposterous that was and how she never talked about anything but petty, harmful gossip and neither did her mother, and then Ruby agreed, and they saw me staring and asked me what I thought, being the medically inclined member of the conversation, and I proudly said that I’d heard of no such affliction and that Josie wasn’t very nice for repeating something like that when you had only ever been kind to her, and then Diana and Ruby took their things and ate at my bench for the rest of the hour because Josie wouldn’t apologise.” 

Anne looked indignant for a moment, pulling angrily at a loose thread on her quilt. “That awful Josie Pye. I have tried long and hard to like her, I really have, but at this point I am starting to believe that it simply isn’t possible to like someone as wicked as her! The nerve…” she looked up at Gilbert, who was smiling in spite of himself, and Anne threw him a withering look. “Oh, wipe off that smirk, Gilbert Blythe! Do you know, that first day I came to school with my lovely hair all chopped off and I was already feeling awful because you were there too, back unexpectedly from Trinidad, and she told Tillie― rather loudly, I may add― that she suspected Marilla had cut off all my hair due to lice because I was of ‘orphan stock’! Well she’s of gossiping, no-good, snobbish stock, so I suppose two can play at that game.” Gilbert nodded, a ghost of a smile still on his lips as he watched the way Anne’s eyes lit up when she got angry about something. It was the same light that her gaze took on when he challenged her in their lessons or she read out loud a particularly exciting passage from a favourite book. 

“Thank goodness for Diana, though. I suppose that’s what bosom friends are for, defending your honour when you aren’t there to defend it yourself, although I dare say Diana will have to defend mine more than I will hers at this rate. And thank you too, Gilbert, for discrediting such an unfounded claim with your superior knowledge. It was ever so helpful of you, as I suspect Josie wouldn’t have shut up about it had you not entered the conversation when you did.” 

Gilbert smiled. “My pleasure, as always.” 

Anne smiled in return, then frowned as a perplexing thought crossed her mind. “I wonder, though, at Ruby’s involvement in all this. I’m never quite sure how she feels about me, or me about her. Sometimes I think she absolutely despises me, and other times she’s as sweet as a honey bee and I’m once again confused as to where we stand.” 

Gilbert frowned. “Why would Ruby hate you? Sure, you have some more independent ideals than the other girls and their marriage obsessions, but you’ve never done bad by her, as far as I know.” 

Anne sighed. “That’s just it. They don’t like that I’m friends with boys, especially you.” 

Gilbert was still confused. “Why would they have a problem with you being friends with me and Cole and Moody? If it’s because of how I act then-” 

“ _It’s because Ruby likes you, and she has dibs!_ ” Anne burst out, and it stunned Gilbert into silence. 

“What?” 

“Oh, goodness…” Anne moaned, throwing herself under the covers in shame. Gilbert didn’t notice her dramatics, however, as he was still trying to comprehend what she had said. 

“Dibs? What on Earth…?” 

“She’s absolutely convinced,” Anne explained, voice muffled by the blankets. “All she writes at story club are -bert stories, and when we were discussing weddings last January she told Diana and I how she planned to have a string of beaus and propositions before she married you. Oh, it’s so horrid! That’s why I hit you with my slate that first day, you know.” 

Gilbert’s mind was reeling with all this new information. “Wait, what?” 

Anne threw open the covers, looking straight at Gilbert. “You followed me to school, and we came in at the same time, and everyone was talking about it, and then at lunch Ruby was crying and the girls told me that I couldn’t talk to you because Ruby had had a crush on you forever and she had dibs. It was the most preposterous thing I had ever heard, but I was ever so desperate for friends then, and so that’s why I was so odd when you offered me your apple, because all the girls were watching us, but you couldn’t see them because your back was to the window, and then later I so desperately wanted to talk to you and just take the apple, because it looked so delicious, but I knew they were watching me so I couldn’t even tell you to just stop trying to talk to me and then I just got so mad when you pulled my hair because I thought you wanted to be my friend and all you did was mock me like that horrible Billy Andrews, so I hit you. And I did want to like you, I did, but the girls already hated me and I just want friends so badly and-and-and…” 

“Anne,” Gilbert said, putting a hand on her knee to stop her. “I can’t believe you still care about that day. So much has happened since then, so much has happened between us since then that I thought we’d moved past that. I know I was wrong to pull your hair and pursue you like that, and I certainly don’t blame you for the odd moment when you were surly towards me. Sure, it was perplexing at the time, but I understand much more about the situation now, and I never expected you to apologise for something that was so obviously my fault.” He gave Anne a small smile, but she did not look up from where her gaze rested half in her lap and half on his hand, which was still sitting comfortably on her knee. 

“The worst part was after you wrote me from Trinidad to say that it was indefinite when you might return to Avonlea and I took the letter to school to show Diana because I was so shocked that I might never see you again and she suggested we give it to Ruby so that she might have a bit of you to cry over. The horror, giving my letter to Ruby to ruin with her undeserving tears!” 

Gilbert shook his head at the antics of these girls. They seemed much too invested in their own little worlds. That was one thing his travels had taught him: the world was wide tand complicated, and problems which seemed like the end of the world back home had paled in comparison to those he had seen abroad. “It does seem like a bit much, having her cry over a letter that wasn’t even hers,” he muttered. “And besides, I have absolutely no romantic feelings towards Ruby, so let’s hope she sets her sights on someone else soon enough, before we get to courting age and she starts inviting me places.” 

Anne frowned at him. “You don’t like Ruby?” 

“Well, no, not like that. She’s a lovely girl and all, but she’s very narrow-minded like most of the girls here. I don’t think I could marry someone who’d never want to travel or be willing to discover the mysteries of the world with me. I want my wife to be my equal, in both intellect and compassion. Someone with whom I can talk about things of importance, not just how to prepare dinner or how many children we should have or what color my next pair of socks should be.” He said the last part with such an air of distaste that Anne thought it best not to mention Ruby’s recent embroidering endeavors. It would only make things worse. 

Suddenly, wanting to change the subject, Gilbert caught sight of the book lying on Anne’s nightstand. “You’re reading _Jane Eyre_?” 

Anne smiled. “Rereading it. I don’t even know if I could count on all my fingers and toes how many times I’ve read that fabulous book, but this is only my second go around that includes Chapter Ten. My copy at the asylum had that part torn out.” She picked up the book, turning it over in her hands. “Have you read _Jane Eyre_?” 

Gilbert gazed at his reflection in the glass across the room that rested on the bureau. “My father had me read it to him some days, when he needed something to take his mind off of things. It was my mother’s favourite, apparently.” He looked back at Anne, who had a little look of pity on her face. “I’ve never finished it though.” 

He didn’t have to embellish for Anne to get the point. John Blythe had died before they’d gotten to the ending. Suddenly, Anne had a wonderful idea. 

“Why don’t you read it to me right now! I suppose Marilla would want me to relax now anyway, so I may be well enough to go to school on Monday.” 

Gilbert smiled. “Alright then, if you insist. Where shall I start?” 

Anne flipped through the book, coming to rest on a page near the beginning of Chapter Twelve. She scanned the page, gave a little nod, and, pleased at her choice, handed the book to Gilbert. “Start at the top of the page after that bit of dialogue, please,” she said, and as he began to read she settled back against the pillows, resting her eyes and listening to his low, soothing voice with a small, content smile playing across her thin lips. 

“ _Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxing bright: I could see him plainly. His figure was enveloped in a riding cloak, fur collared and steel clasped; its details were not apparent, but I traced the general points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest…_ ” 

It was maybe an hour later when Anne’s breath evened and Gilbert was sure she had fallen asleep, and he decided it was time he made his exit. Setting _Jane Eyre_ with their place carefully marked back on the nightstand, he tiptoed carefully out of the room and closed the door behind him, carrying the tea tray and basket with him. 

Gilbert made his way quietly down the stairs, setting his things on the dining room table. He found Marilla in the kitchen, kneading a loaf of dough to prepare it for baking. She looked up from her work when she heard him in the doorway and wiped her hands on her apron, coming around the work bench to stand in front of him. 

“She’s asleep,” he said in explanation, and Marilla smiled. 

“Good. Hopefully she’ll be well enough on Monday to return to school. I’m going to have to keep her inside until then, however, which won’t be an easy feat.” 

“I could come back tomorrow,” Gilbert offered without thinking. “I... I was reading to her from _Jane Eyre_ , and having someone to talk to might make her more partial to staying indoors.” 

Marilla nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. That would be lovely, Gilbert, if you could.” 

Gilbert’s heart beat faster at the thought of spending so much time with Anne, but he smiled. “Yes, of course, Marilla.” 

“Thank you, Gilbert.” 

“You’re welcome, Miss Cuthbert. Anytime.” 

He toed back into his boots, stuffing his hat onto his head of curls and shrugging into his coat and scarf. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“Tomorrow. Have a safe journey home, Gilbert.” 

Marilla saw him out the back door and watched him go, tramping through the freshly fallen snow. A memory from many years ago flitted across her mind and she smiled sadly. 

_A day just like this one._

_Watching another Blythe man leave with promises to return fresh on his lips._

Perhaps this time he would keep them. 


End file.
